


Every Word From Your Mouth

by pyrrhics



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: AU, AU of the magical kind, Forced Masturbation, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, a magical collar to ensure submission, a riding crop is involved, and hibari hates his life, at 1am in the morning, bursts back into writing with a 3.5k smut piece, but this is the furthest thing from romantic, i don't know what i was thinking, i was thinking smut, i'm so ashamed, in which mukuro is a giant pervert, just in time for valentine's day, not really - Freeform, sort of, there are collars in this one, this was typed on a tiny phone screen, who am I kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:46:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9768848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhics/pseuds/pyrrhics
Summary: (is a knife in my ear.)Hibari Kyouya does not regret many things. Some would say he's incapable of feeling regret.But as ever, there are exceptions. He's regretting every single one of his decisions that led to this godforsaken situation.Title is fromEvery Word Is A Knife In My Ear, by The Bravery.





	

**Author's Note:**

> GOD so uh this was mostly inspired by a what-if situation that popped up in the game I RP in (I love my fantastic Mukuro). The basic gist is that Things Happened and Hibari now has a collar on him that bends his will into submission for whoever has claimed him as his master, when said master says the trigger words. The master is also the only one that can take the collar off.
> 
> His luck being what it is (horrible), Mukuro's the one who claimed him. And of course he takes full advantage of it. For the record, the two of them are in a kind of relationship??? Neither of them really know what it is, and they don't really want to take it any further than a purely physical thing.
> 
> This was also written while I was half conscious at 1am in the morning, so half of it doesn't even make sense, the tenses switch up everywhere, the perspective changes a million times, ahhhh waves hands vaguely
> 
> tl;dr IT'S FILTHY SMUT OF THE OTP

“ _Kneel_ ,” he purrs, and Kyouya growls as his legs fold without his consent, the wood hard against his knees. The collar is tight on his throat, the remaining links clinking against each other as he tilts his head rebelliously to glare at the offending man, unwilling to bow his head to his supposed master. Mukuro circles him, a wicked gleam in his eyes and a self satisfied smirk on his lips. It's just the two of them in the house, and Kyouya has never hated the feeling of being chained more than this. He can't move, the collar enforcing the command, and he barely restrains himself as Mukuro finally reaches out and touches him, stroking fingers through his hair and down his nape.

 

“You make such a pretty picture, Kyouya,” he says, and Kyouya can _feel_ the way Mukuro is laughing at him, even if he can't turn his head. It's in the purr of his voice, the mocking way the fingers trace the collar's edge, flush against the pale skin of his neck. It's enough to raise the hairs on his nape, and his thighs tense, ready to turn and rip Mukuro's arm off to teach him a lesson. As if sensing his intentions, the collar tightens suddenly; it's enough to cut off his air, just long enough that he sees stars. Mukuro slips his fingers underneath the metal and strokes lightly against the chafing skin there; the collar obligingly loosens again, and Kyouya pulls in a deep breath, glaring at the illusionist who has come full circle around him again.

 

“I will tear your filthy hands off and feed them to you,” he rasps, fighting the compulsion to remain submissive for long enough to raise a hand and catch Mukuro's wrist in a crushing grip. Mukuro only chuckles and leans in closer, letting his lips graze against an earlobe and delighting in the unwilling shiver that action coaxes from Kyouya.

 

“Maybe later, darling. Now, I want you beneath me. _Strip_.” The word rings with command, and Kyouya snarls as his hand involuntarily releases Mukuro's wrist, going to the tie at his waist and pulling it loose. He moves as if on autopilot, mind railing against the indignity of it all, but eventually the yukata is open, deep brown cloth contrasting sharply with pale skin riddled with faint silvery scars. Mukuro looks all too pleased about Kyouya's state of undress, using a finger to tilt his slave's chin up higher so he can stare into furious eyes.

 

“Oh, don't give me that look,” he tuts, tracing the pouting lips with his thumb. He's entirely unsurprised when Kyouya opens his mouth and bites down hard, hard enough to draw blood. What a lovely prize he'd caught, truly. He was happy to let Kyouya dominate most of the time, but sometimes, he just wanted to take over and turn Kyouya into a shivering wreck. The collar was very useful in that sense. He pulls his hand away from Kyouya's face when his thumb is stained with red, tsking lightly at the new wound. Kyouya's lips are red with his blood, and when the skylark grins savagely, his teeth are bloody. A rush of desire courses through Mukuro's body and makes him grin in return, a Cheshire cat smirk that promises nothing good for Kyouya.

 

“Slaves should not bite their masters,” Mukuro says, and lets an illusion of a riding crop form in his hand. Kyouya's eyes widen slightly, then narrow, and Mukuro can see the way his muscles tense, as if already anticipating the first blow from the crop. His hands curl into fists against his naked thighs, and he looks like he dearly wants to rip Mukuro's throat out with his teeth, collar be damned.

 

“It looks like I'll have to discipline you, Kyouya.” The crop lowers and taps against Kyouya's sternum; Mukuro pouts, considering, and Kyouya prepares for the snap of pain against his skin. But there's no sting, no biting edge. Instead there's a gentle caress against his skin, brushing downwards then to the side, tracing a dusky nipple and teasing it until it's pert. Mukuro does the same to the other nipple, looking satisfied all the while at the slow confusion in Kyouya's face.

 

_Then_ there's the snap of leather, sharp against a nipple. The crack echoes through the empty house, and Kyouya grits his teeth and curls his fingers tighter, ignoring how the pleasure-pain sends a shock straight down to his cock. Mukuro isn't fooled though. He sees the way Kyouya presses his lips together to avoid giving away any sounds. He does it again and again, alternating between sharp snaps and slow caresses of the crop, until Kyouya's chest is painted red with marks and Kyouya's cock is half hard, curving up between his thighs. Only then does he drag the crop downwards, flitting the tongue slowly down Kyouya's chest, then stomach. He traces the sharp jut of his hips, trailing the leather down the lines until the tip is half a centimetre away from the very tip of Kyouya's cock.

 

“ _Wao_ , it looks like you're a glutton for punishment, Kyouya.” The crop disappears from his hands, just shy of touching Kyouya, and Mukuro almost wants to laugh at the anger and lust he can see warring in Kyouya's eyes. Oh, how he loved playing with the skylark. He was like a toy that would never break, there was nothing that he couldn't take, and Mukuro _adored_ that about him. His own pants are tight, so tight, and he licks his lips, looking down on the sight that he has created.

 

“ _Touch yourself. Slowly_ ,” he orders, and enjoys the way Kyouya's eyes flash dangerously, even as his hands move to fulfill that order. The first brush of contact against his cock sends a full bodied shiver through him, and Mukuro delights in the way Kyouya bites his lip, furious and wanting to go faster. But the command is absolute, and he's helpless against the compulsion, fingers sliding against hot skin in a sensual motion. Mukuro takes the time to undress, dropping off each article of clothing into a pile that's out of the way, before returning to his spot in front of Kyouya, swallowing hard at the sight that is presented to him. 

 

Kyouya has a beautiful body, that he knows. He's seen it before in all situations, lithe and deadly in battle, graceful even as he rains down destruction. Sleek and streamlined, not a hint of extraneous fat; it's the very definition of a predator's body. In sex, he's oh so very dominant, a commanding presence even in the bedroom - not that Mukuro minds at all. But this, this is what is amazing. The way Kyouya trembles at each touch from his own hand, the way his throat bobs underneath the collar as he tries to swallow his gasps, the tensing in every single muscle as he holds back from giving Mukuro what he wants.

 

Eventually, Mukuro has had enough. “ _Stop_ ,” he orders, voice husky with lust. Kyouya's hands still where they are, and he looks up at Mukuro again, eyes smouldering with the force of his anger. There's a trail of blood from where he's bitten his lip, and Mukuro reaches out to wipe it away, licking the smear off his finger absently. He's almost ready to give Kyouya what he wants, but at the same time, he wants to see how far he can push the other man, see how much it takes to get Kyouya to beg for his release. Oh, he could use the collar to make Kyouya beg, it's true, but that's one thing he doesn't want to do. It would be a dull victory. So he kneels and wraps a hand around Kyouya's cock, smirking at the way his hips jerk up instinctively before Kyouya can restrain himself. 

 

“So impatient. We have a while to go, darling.” When he takes his hand away, there's a ring around the base of Kyouya's cock, and Kyouya looks at him incredulously, as if he can't believe Mukuro has done it. Mukuro just looks smug, and his next order comes promptly. 

 

“ _Hands behind your back_.” Kyouya follows the order, fingers lacing together despite his clear hatred of the order, and Mukuro laughs his infuriating laugh. He drags his hands down Kyouya's chest, scraping nails lightly against the abused nipples and humming appreciatively at their redness. He slides cool hands around to Kyouya's back, fitting himself against Kyouya's thighs, and half laughs, half moans at the pleasing slide of his cock against Kyouya's. Kyouya can feel it too, judging by the way his eyelids fall half shut and his jaw tenses even further. Mukuro is oh so tempted to keep Kyouya's mouth open with a gag, but he decides not to push his luck, rubbing himself against Kyouya and loving the way the skylark’s body responds.

 

He pulls away though, reaching for the bottle he'd kept nearby. Kyouya's eyelids flutter open, eyes hazy with desire, and he blinks, once, twice, before he registers what Mukuro has in his hands and he _snarls_ , breaking through the commands for long enough to force his hands from their position against his back. His hands reach for Mukuro's throat, murder coursing through his veins, until the collar tightens so suddenly that he chokes, the metal far too sharp and tight against his throat, almost cutting into the skin. His hands drop to scrabble at the smooth metal instead, seeking for a way to relieve the pressure and finding none. It's only when Mukuro reaches out and lays his fingers on the collar does it loosen, letting Kyouya cough down air as he half sags against the floor. 

 

“Why do you even try, Kyouya? You know what happens when you try to harm me with that on.” Mukuro doesn't sound disappointed, just unsurprised, and he pulls Kyouya against him, propping him up against his body and sliding his hands under the yukata to massage his back. The lines are already starting to bruise, but as Kyouya's breathing steadies, Mukuro begins laying delicate kisses against Kyouya's shoulders, nosing the soft skin. It's a way to calm him, yes, but it's also staking a claim on him yet again. He's the only one that can touch Kyouya like this. He's the only one that can _hurt_ Kyouya like this. 

 

“Better?” He eventually asks, nipping lightly at Kyouya's shoulder. He feels more than he sees Kyouya nod, just a slight movement against his shoulder, and he lets a faint smile creep over his face, one full of fondness for the man in his arms. When he sets Kyouya back upright, though, reluctantly parting from that inviting heat, that smile is nowhere to be seen, and instead, he begins pouring the scented oil on his fingers, getting them slick for their next task.

 

“ _Spread your legs, Kyouya_. You know how this works.” Kyouya shoots him a dirty look over his shoulder but the command takes over before he can protest. His back is to Mukuro, but that's fine, because Mukuro hikes the yukata up to Kyouya’s waist, baring the very tempting ass and revealing how wide Kyouya has spread his legs. He trails the slick fingers down the crack, pressing lightly against the puckered hole - not deep enough for penetration, but just enough that it causes Kyouya to shift uncomfortably. He rubs circles there, massaging the oil into the skin, and Kyouya relaxes, slowly melting into the attention. Mukuro snakes an arm around Kyouya's waist and pulls him closer, cool fingers trailing patterns against his chest - he smothers a chuckle against Kyouya's back at the twitch that earns him, and steadily presses the first of his fingers into Kyouya's body, slowly enough that the glide of oil is enough to ease the passage.

 

He can feel how Kyouya is scowling, despite not being able to see his face, and he pinches a nipple sharply, delighting in the way it causes Kyouya to tighten around his finger. It's a slow preparation, Mukuro taking his time with more fingers, until the tips of his fingers brush against Kyouya's prostate and the skylark arches beautifully before him. He wants to see Kyouya's face, so he pulls his fingers out and turns Kyouya around, almost laughing at the irritation that crosses Kyouya's face when he realises what Mukuro is doing. The irritation disappears quickly though, once Mukuro slicks up his fingers again and slides them back in, caressing that sweet spot. Kyouya's mouth opens in a silent ‘ _o_ ’, and his hands, freed from their previous compulsion, grip Mukuro's shoulders, nails digging into skin. They'll leave marks, as they always do, but Mukuro doesn't mind. It's kind of romantic, he thinks. 

 

Three fingers and Kyouya is almost pushing back on them, wanting more. Four fingers earns Mukuro a purr of appreciation, the first proper sound from Kyouya’s lips since they first started, and it makes him grin savagely, taking the victory. He stretches Kyouya wide, and shivers wrack the slender body as he pushes back against the fingers, demanding as ever, even in his vulnerable position. It's overkill to touch Kyouya's cock right now, but Mukuro does it anyway, wrapping a firm hand around the rigid cock and tugging roughly in time with a thrust. That earns him a quickly bitten off _moan_ , and Kyouya's head falls back, exposing his bruising throat. 

 

Mukuro can't resist leaving at least one mark there, so he closes his teeth on a section of skin untouched by the collar and bites down, sucking and laving a hickey into the skin like a tattoo. He can feel the tremble of Kyouya's thighs over his own, feel the way Kyouya swallows another moan, feel the hot flush of a blush against his mouth. He thinks it's time for him to finally take his pleasure.

 

When he pulls his fingers away from Kyouya's ass, he watches Kyouya slump, resignation clear in his posture. _Oh darling, precious Kyouya, of course I'm not done with you_.

 

Oil slicks his cock, plenty of it for an easy entry, and he groans at the feeling of his hand on his own cock. He guides Kyouya to hover over his lap, and he rubs his cock against Kyouya's ass, grinning at the way the other man's nails dig into his shoulders even more and the anger on his beautiful face. He's teasing, mostly, but Kyouya's tired of it, tired of his promises for more, and takes it into his own hands.

 

Mukuro lets out a strangled groan as Kyouya pushes his hips down, taking Mukuro in inch by inch, until he's fully seated on Mukuro's lap. Mukuro's cock is large inside of him, and a little shift of his hips makes it brush against his prostate. It makes him arch again, pleasure shooting straight through his nerves and into his brain, and he pants, shoulders shuddering with the force of the pleasure. Mukuro takes advantage of his momentary weakness to grip his hips and pull him up and off his cock until only the tip remains inside, before plunging him back down to swallow the rest.

 

The rhythm is established quickly, Mukuro setting a punishing pace that makes Kyouya bounce with the force of it. He claws stripes down Mukuro's back with sharp nails, sinks his teeth into the shoulder until he draws blood, and gives as good as he gets. Mukuro takes his revenge by pulling Kyouya away, fisting his fingers in soft black hair and wrenching his head back to bare his throat. Kyouya hisses with the pain in his scalp, but it causes him to tighten around Mukuro, drawing out pleased gasps from the illusionist. Mukuro attacks his chest, bending his head to suck on the nipples in turn, grazing his teeth against them and enjoying how Kyouya _moans_ with the pleasure-pain of it.

 

He ends up pushing Kyouya to the floor, leaving Kyouya spread out on the yukata and under him in a beautiful flushed mess, his cock straining beautifully above the cock ring and ass stretched wide around Mukuro's cock. Mukuro hovers over Kyouya, driving his hips deep and hard and fast, and he bends his head and kisses Kyouya hard, teeth clacking against teeth and mouths fighting for dominance. He laughs into the kiss even as Kyouya rips his bottom lip open savagely, lapping up the blood before breaking away to gasp at something Mukuro had done with his hips. His legs wrap around Mukuro's waist and pull him in, ankles crossing at the small of the illusionist's back and urging him deeper, faster!

 

Mukuro is only too happy to comply, rising from his position over Kyouya to thrust deeper into the pliant body beneath him. Kyouya is thrashing, eyes hazy and sweat a sheen over his body. His hands inch down towards his cock, but Mukuro grabs both wrists and pins them above his head.

 

“Ah ah ah~ Bad Kyouya. _You don't get to cum until I say you can. Hands above your head_ ,” he commands, the effect somewhat ruined by how his breath falters every time Kyouya tightens around him. But it works nonetheless, and Kyouya hisses at how he is denied his own release, his fingers gripping the sleeves of the yukata tight and not moving. It doesn't take much more for Mukuro to finally come, his hips pounding faster and faster into Kyouya until he stills suddenly and lets out a satisfied moan, hips jerking as cum shoots into Kyouya. The sudden liquid warmth inside of him makes Kyouya hiss again and clench around Mukuro, heels digging deeper into Mukuro's back as if encouraging him to stay there.

 

Mukuro doesn't withdraw after he's done, instead thrusting slowly inside Kyouya. He's never been able to deny Kyouya after all, and this was something that he'd most definitely won. So he watches as Kyouya writhes under him, wanting and wanting his own release but denied it until his master allows it. It's only when Kyouya turns his eyes on Mukuro, pupils blown wide with pure _want_ , does Mukuro finally relent, stroking Kyouya's cock with short sharp tugs. 

 

“ _Come for me, Kyouya._ ” The command echoes through their link as well, Mukuro grinning at the way it makes Kyouya jerk. The cock ring disappears between one pass and the next, and Kyouya arches off the floor with a high gasping moan as his release finally comes, cum streaking across his chest and painting it white. He collapses afterwards, chest heaving as his body shudders with overstimulation from Mukuro's continuing thrusts. Eventually, Mukuro withdraws from the pleasant heat with a groan, earning an answering noise (of disappointment??) from Kyouya. Kyouya slowly sits up, pulling the yukata around him once more and tying it loosely, uncaring of how it sticks to his skin. He carefully doesn't wince at the pain that sitting upright must be causing him, but instead slumps against Mukuro, sharing his warmth as he catches his breath.

 

“That was _fantastic_ ,” Mukuro says after his breathing steadies and evens out. He strokes fingers across Kyouya's neck and pulls the collar off, the metal coming undone easily under his hands. He throws it somewhere out of sight and starts to massage the bruises it had left, not commenting on the way it makes Kyouya flinch a little every time he strokes the pads of his fingers across them. Kyouya relaxes into the massage eventually, managing an unintelligible hum when Mukuro asks him if he's okay.

 

“If you ever do that again, I promise you I will rip out your entrails and _feed_ them to you,” Kyouya mutters tiredly, face buried against Mukuro's shoulder. The effort of trying to resist the commands has made him more docile than usual, it seems. Mukuro only laughs and gives his hair a kiss, before scooping Kyouya up into his arms and standing, wincing at the way the his clawed back protests the movement. He avoids the instinctive punch and thwarts the attempt to escape with the ease of the long accustomed, planting another kiss on Kyouya's scowling lips.

 

“Come on, we'll take a bath together.”

 

Kyouya grumbles, but noticeably doesn't protest, and Mukuro smiles.


End file.
